I thought of you today, but I don’t think of you every day anymore. It’s getting better.
The fact is, I can romanticize our short time together to my heart’s content and be as dramatic as I’d like, but deep down I understand that the only real reason you still consume my mind when it’s lost is that I’ve shared experiences with you that I haven’t with anybody else. You’re my sole encounter with real affection, and until that changes, my daydreams will continue to wander to you and all of our unfulfilled potential. Until that changes, as irritating as this may be to admit, I will never fully be over you.
Once, lost in a dizzying douse of self-pity, I fished myself out upon the realization that you’re just a person. Just another human. You’re not some figment of my imagination. You’re a real human, with a real life and real issues, and I have nothing to do with any of them. But you don’t have anything to do with mine, either. And I’m functioning just fine without you. When I force myself to remember that, the aching and confusion seem to go away. These moments are humbling; they fill me with clarity and I don’t feel so disappointed anymore.
My anger towards you, and largely what happened between us, stems from the fact that nothing really did. We had so little time together, and I wrongfully chastised myself for failing to divulge the best parts about myself. We met in inauthentic circumstances, and in those circumstances, we remained. I was too shy, and you weren’t curious. All of the time we spent together was spent under the false illusions that come with the foul taste of alcohol. That’s no way to start something real.
The worst part is coming to terms with the fact that I’ve been pining for something that was never up to standard. In a moment, I lost sight of what I’ve always wanted: something raw, an all-consuming love story. If I were to consider our encounters objectively, I would never admit that kissing you amidst a drunken haze would provide the ideal foundation for a relationship. Not to say that I would never let it happen that way – but it didn’t happen for us, and so it goes.
Sometimes it’s just hard to move on, and that’s okay too. I stopped beating myself up for that a long time ago.
We don’t end up together. I know that now, I knew it then. I’ll continue to think of you from time to time, and then one day, no more.
Words by Anonymous // Photography by Emma Robinson.
© 2017 Reef Magazine